


Unstated

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Prince of Stride: Alternative (Anime)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5840734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kei's fingers are nearly on the metal when he hears Yuu’s gasp." An accident leads to an impulse decision and more of a revelation than Kei was ready for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heard

It’s an accident, to start.

Kei isn’t trying to snoop. He wakes up thirsty at a late enough hour that the world is dark and still on the other side of his closed blinds; all the lights in the house are off when he eases his door open to pad along the hallway towards the bathroom for a drink of water. He downs one glass, follows it up with half another before shutting off the light and returning down the hallway towards his room as softly as he can go. His room is at the far end, distanced from the bathroom by the frame of the door to his brother’s room; he’s nearly on top of Yuu’s door when he realizes it’s cracked open, that there’s an inch of shadow showing around the edges of the frame. He pauses, considers continuing down the hall; but their father will turn on the hall light on his way to shower in the early morning, and Kei knows Yuu was up later than he was for the sake of fitting in an extra hour of studying. The light will wake him early, and he won’t be able to get back to sleep, and Kei might be rolling his eyes in frustration -- can’t Yuu manage to do even this one thing right? -- but he’s reaching for the handle, too, ready to ease the weight of the door shut quietly enough to let Yuu keep sleeping.

His fingers are nearly on the metal when he hears Yuu’s gasp.

Kei freezes. It’s not that he’s startled that Yuu is awake, although that’s part of it; it’s that there’s a strange resonance under that breath, a thrumming heat that some part of his mind recognizes before he has put a name to it. It’s embarrassment that locks him in place, that colors his cheeks suddenly dark with heat, and if there’s a flicker of something else at the very base of his spine at hearing the sound of his brother jerking off Kei doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t give it the legitimacy of a name even in his own head.

He should go. He should withdraw his hand, should move back down the hallway as quietly as possible so he can go back to sleep and forget the way Yuu’s voice sounded on that choked-back moan, so he can forget the way heat is flushing his cheeks and itching under his skin. He doesn’t. He stays perfectly still, hearing his own heart hammering panic-loud in his chest, and then there’s another sound from the other side of the door, a faint whimper of need that crests so suddenly hot in Kei’s veins that he can’t even pretend he’s not reacting the way he is. His cock is swelling between his legs, rising against the front of his pajama pants, and he’s not moving, he’s barely breathing, he’s frozen in place as he strains to hear the details of Yuu’s movement over the sound of his own frantic heartbeat. There’s not much to hear: the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed, the sometimes-catch of Yuu’s breathing into a moan. But Kei’s imagination is clinging to every detail, painting a picture against the inside of his head to turn every rustle into the drag of Yuu’s hand over himself, to turn every gasp into the tilt of Yuu’s head and the arch of his throat. Kei can see it clear, more clearly than he expected: the way Yuu’s shoulders must be tensing, the way his spine must be curved in around the drag of his hand. His skin must be damp with sweat, his lips parted, his eyes shut to cast shadows from his lashes against his cheeks; Kei can almost taste the heat on Yuu’s breathless exhales, can almost see the slick drag of Yuu’s fingers over the flush of his cock. Kei’s breathing is coming faster, only keeping to silence by the absolute need for secrecy, but he can’t leave, can’t make himself move away down the hallway like he should, like he should have at the first hiss of sound from the other side of the door. He’s fully hard inside his pajama pants, now, his cock twitching hot with every sound he catches from Yuu’s throat, but he doesn’t dare move, is too distracted to even think about the ramifications of the heat in his veins, too distracted to berate himself sufficiently for the electricity that is sparking fire all through his body. He’s trapped where he is, too panicked to move and too enthralled to think, and then Yuu gasps a long, overheated inhale, and when he moans his exhale it’s with the heat of “ _Kei_ ” purring clear under it.

Kei thinks for a moment that Yuu is talking to him. The sound of his name hits him like a bolt, brings his hand jerking back from the handle as immediately as if Yuu had actually appeared on the other side of the door. But then Yuu whimpers again, a faint noise muffled against the sheets, and Kei’s heat-slurred brain trips over itself, and leaps ahead, and lands at precisely the right conclusion.

“Oh god,” Kei says, except there’s no voice to the words, there’s just the shape of them hot on his tongue as he takes a step backwards. He’s not careful about his footfalls, but his heel misses the squeaky floorboard, and whatever thud the sound of his movement makes is lost to the heat of Yuu’s breathing on the other side of the door. Kei’s heart is pounding, he’s going lightheaded from too much heat in his veins; when he drops to the floor it’s unstudied, more from a need to be closer to the ground than from any deliberate decision. Yuu is still breathing hard on the other side, still gasping tiny helpless sounds of pleasure, and Kei’s twisting, pushing himself around until his shoulders land against the wall, until the weight of the support is holding him upright against the steam burning under his skin. His mouth is open, his lungs are desperate for air he can’t seem to get, and there’s no thought at all as he shoves his pajama pants down off his hips and to his thighs, no conscious decision as he closes the friction of his hand around the aching heat of his cock. It’s just reflex, a choice made somewhere in the back of his brain that comes out unaffected by such considerations as morality and danger, and then he’s stroking up over himself and the relief is so strong even the knowledge that he’s jerking off to his brother fantasizing about him isn’t enough to so much as quiver in his breathing. Kei tips his head back against the wall, lets his knees fall wide, and then he’s lost, all his attention giving way to the drag of his palm over his cock and the sounds Yuu is making on the other side of the barely-open door.

Kei can hear the bed shifting, can hear the almost-pained noises Yuu is making as he moves. He wonders, frantic with the heat in his blood, if it’s guilt giving the other’s breathing that edge of pain, if it’s regret making itself heard in the whimpers spilling from Yuu’s throat. Then there’s another noise, a half-muffled groan of sound lower than anything Kei’s ever heard from Yuu before, and a new possibility presents itself, suggests the image of Yuu with a finger inside him, two, of Yuu pushing himself open while he imagines it’s Kei shoving him down against the bed. Kei chokes on a breath, his eyes wide and unfocused on the ceiling as his mind reels out the picture of it, the hunch of Yuu’s shoulders and the shudder running through his body with each thrust he takes with his fingers. Kei’s whole body is thrumming with heat, his imagination running wild on the sounds of Yuu’s gasps, and the madness of fantasy suggests that he push open the door, that he step forward and shove Yuu down by the back of his neck and just have him, right now, drop onto the bed behind him and sink his cock into the grip of Yuu’s body before the other’s had a chance to realize what’s happening.

Kei can imagine the sound Yuu would make, can hear the startled wail of his name that would turn into a groan as Kei thrusts deep into him, and his strokes are speeding, his cock swelling hotter under his own touch at the idea. It would only take a few thrusts, Kei thinks wildly, he could be coming into Yuu instead of over his hand, and it’s hard to think why he shouldn’t, hard to come up with reasons why he has to keep his voice still and his motions quiet. Yuu’s panting desperate, hiccuping breaths, and then he moans “ _Kei_ ,” drawing the name out far past its intended syllables, and Kei can hear his breathing stutter, can hear the exhales punctuated by involuntary shudders as Yuu comes. Kei’s chest aches, his entire body flashes into painful heat, and when he arches his back against the wall and jerks into orgasm it’s with Yuu’s face behind his shut eyes, with the sound of Yuu’s breathing ringing in his ears. There’s vibration in his throat, spasms of pleasure jolting up his spine, and for a long moment Kei doesn’t think about anything but the satisfaction rippling out to the farthest reaches of his body.

Then he hears Yuu take a breath, the inhale tense on panic instead of slurred with heat, and when the other says “Kei?” Kei realizes what he’s said, can taste the echo of his groaned _aniki_ hot at the back of his tongue.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t dare. There’s no words he can offer in response, no explanation that will absolve either of them; he has the proof of his own illicit desire cooling sticky across his fingers, he’s given up any hope he might have had of denial. For a brief moment Kei thinks Yuu will get out of bed, imagines him opening the door to see Kei with his pants around his knees and his cock in his hand. For an insane moment he wishes he _would_. But then there’s the rustle of blankets, softer than it was before, deliberately quiet as if that will somehow undo what Kei’s already heard, and Kei stares unseeing and unmoving at the ceiling while he listens to the sound of Yuu cleaning himself up, listens to the creak of the bed as his brother turns over under the blankets to go back to sleep.

Kei waits for ten minutes, fifteen, almost a half hour before he moves from outside the door. He tells himself it’s to wait for Yuu to fall asleep, to give himself the plausible deniability of absolute silence following his own giveaway moan. But Yuu’s breathing hasn’t slowed into sleep by the time Kei pulls his pants back up over his chilled skin, and Kei doesn’t try to convince himself he’s even trying to avoid the creaky floorboard when he walks back down the hallway to his own room.

Neither of them will be getting much more sleep tonight.


	2. Felt

Yuu shouldn’t be doing this.

His situation is bad enough in the first place. He’s known that ever since middle school, when seeing Kei receiving a confession from a classmate twisted Yuu’s heart into a knot of jealousy so strong it was hard to breathe the whole way home. It would have been nice to convince himself it was the nameless girl he wanted, would have been pleasant to lie to himself for at least a few months longer, but Yuu has always been painfully good at admitting his own flaws, and when Kei had asked him ‘what’s wrong, aniki?’ on their way back home he had known the ache of heat in his chest as the possessive desire it was, had known without needing to consider the question that it was the focus in Kei’s silvered eyes that he wanted and not the blushing attention of the girl who had so earnestly begged for his brother’s attention. He had ducked his head, and mumbled some lie that was enough to convince Kei to stop asking, even if it wasn’t enough to satisfy the question, and after that he had learned to be more careful with his expression, to be more secret in his reactions.

It’s bad enough to know that he’s in love with his brother, to know that every time Kei comes back from a run flushed and sweating from the exertion some part of Yuu’s mind is going to imagine the salt taste of Kei’s skin at his tongue, is going to suggest the way Kei’s bare shoulders would shadow Yuu’s body if he leaned in over him. Yuu tries to keep it to just the knowledge, an absolute secret so far in the back of his head that even he can forget about it, but if he keeps it a secret from everyone else he can’t keep it from himself. He spends dozens of nights lying awake hot and flushed, desperate to find some kind of relief from the insistent images that fill the night-dark of his imagination: Kei frowning at him, Kei shoving him down to the bed, Kei pushing his knees apart with the width of his hips. For months Yuu hardly sleeps, every night a battle between his fantasies and his self-preservation, until finally he’s so exhausted and so desperate for sleep that he capitulates to the desire and tries to jerk off to the thought of one of the popular Stride runners, the ones in high school with the long legs and the filled-out shoulders and the dark eyes and light hair so unlike his brother’s. He thinks it’s working, can feel relief weighting like a sob in the back of his throat as he approaches satisfaction; and then the image dissolves, light hair goes dark and brown eyes shift to mirror-grey, and Yuu’s cock jumps in his hand and he spills sticky across his stomach with Kei’s face in his mind.

It’s a losing battle after that. It’s impossible to resist after that first mistake; every night Yuu tells himself it’s the last time, every evening goes to bed determined to think of someone else, or to not touch himself at all, and every night he stares sleepless at the ceiling and feels his resolution dissolve out of his mind while he convinces himself that _this_ is the last time, this really will be the last one as his fingers trail over his stomach and down under the edge of his pajama pants to close on the heat of his erection.

By the time Kei starts high school, Yuu’s given up entirely. There’s no coming back from years of secretly fantasizing about his brother; even if he stopped himself now, if he found a girlfriend or even a boyfriend, there’s no way he’ll ever be able to wipe out the history so shadowed in his own mind. And he’s tired, worn out by his futile efforts to resist his own desire; it’s easier to accept that he’s a failure in this as in so much else. It’s a relief, in a bitter kind of way, to know that he can indulge himself in the darkness of the nighttime, in the shadows of his own room, a comfort to know that for all the hours he spends attempting normalcy with Kei at school and during Stride practice and in the evenings at home he’ll have the relief of complete corruption waiting for him that night. He finds that if he curls his body in around his right hand he can work his left behind himself, can press fingers slick with the lube he hides under his bed into his body and pretend it’s Kei thrusting into him, can push until the ache of friction and the heat of desire tangle inextricably together and push him over the edge to the shuddering orgasm that grants him a few moments of blessed relief from his perpetual guilt.

Yuu doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Stopping is an impossibility, he knows from his failed attempt at the beginning, but it’s getting harder and harder to make it through practice with the heat of Kei’s glare fixed on him, harder to persuade his imagination that it’s Kei moving over him and not just the worn-out edges of a too-familiar fantasy. And now he’s getting paranoid too; yesterday he was sure he heard Kei’s voice outside the door after he came, Kei’s voice moaning ‘ _aniki_ ’ in tones of unmistakable pleasure. Yuu hadn’t moved, hadn’t dared go to pull the door open and check; by the time the morning came to drag him into wakefulness it felt like a fever-dream composed of the strange hazy unreality of memories formed too close to sleep. And Kei had said nothing at breakfast, at school, at practice; he barely even spoke to Yuu all day, even if it seemed he was staring shadows at his brother every time Yuu turned to look.

By that night Yuu’s convinced himself it was a dream, a vivid hallucination brought on by the exhaustion of the day and the onset of sleep; when he switches his desk light off and draws the blankets of his bed back, he’s hardly thinking about it at all for his anticipation of what is to come. He’s already calling up his favorite fantasy in his head as he spills lube over his fingers, the one where Kei pins him back against the wall in the clubroom and bruises his mouth swollen with kisses, and by the time he’s kicked his pajama pants down to his knees and curled his fingers around himself he’s half-hard even before he’s touched his skin. He takes a stroke, two, and the fantasy in his head is shading into suggestion, offering the weight of Kei’s hips pressing against his, the idea of Kei’s cock grinding hard at his hip through their shorts. Yuu lets his breathing go, reaches behind himself with slick fingers, and when he pushes one inside he can’t help the whimper that escapes his throat, the sound so soft it couldn’t be heard except by someone pressing their ear to the other side of his door. The friction feels good, the pressure more so, and Yuu’s stroking faster over himself, coaxing his cock to full hardness as he slides his fingers deeper into his body. In his head Kei is pushing his shorts down, is reaching between his thighs to force his legs apart, and Yuu gasps a breath and thrusts in with a second finger, pushing himself wider around the intrusion of his own touch. He can imagine the heat of Kei’s mouth at his lips, at his throat, pressing warm against his shoulder, can imagine Kei’s fingers sliding deep into him instead of his own, forcing a jolt of pleasure through his body with the unerring skill that Kei shows in whatever he does. Yuu rocks his fingers harder into himself, stretching past the point of comfort and to the edge of pain; his back arches, his body strains, but his cock twitches, too, the head going slick with a spill of precome as he strokes.

“ _Ah_ ,” and he’s choking on the sound, his breathing is straining in his chest as his thoughts go dizzy on heat. “ _Kei_.”

The door opening is so startling that Yuu can’t even react for a moment. It’s an impossibility, something so horrifying he can’t even fathom it, and for the first second all he can do is stare at the figure silhouetted in the frame with his lips still parted on his brother’s name. There’s no question of what he’s doing -- his hand is on his cock, his fingers are buried inside himself -- and for a heartbeat of time Yuu’s brain simply refuses to process what’s happening, offers no reaction at all to the intrusion. Then the figure shoves the door shut, and strides forward, and there’s a hand at Yuu’s hip, fingertips digging so hard into his skin Yuu can feel bruises rising instantly. A shove, a push rough enough to turn Yuu over onto his stomach, and Yuu chokes on his breath, his whole body shuddering with a wave of pointless adrenaline. He can hear the other’s breathing, can hear the rapidfire rush of air in his lungs, and it’s just as a hand closes on Yuu’s wrist to drag his fingers out of himself that Yuu’s brain catches up to what’s happening, and his mouth catches up with his breathing, and he manages to choke out “ _Kei_ ” again, in recognition this time instead of a plea.

Kei moves fast. There’s a hand in Yuu’s hair, a fist in the strands, and then he’s shoving Yuu’s head down against the sheets, turning him so the gasp of panicked shock in Yuu’s throat muffles into inaudibility against the resistance. “Shut up,” Kei growls, low and grating and hot, and Yuu wants to nod to indicate that he understands but he can’t move his head at all for how hard Kei is pushing him down to the sheets. He can’t ease his hold on his cock, can’t make any attempt to cover the sweat-slick of his exposed skin, and then Kei’s knees are shoving between his and Yuu has a sudden jolt of premonition. Kei’s breathing hard behind him, Yuu can hear the sound of his clothes rustling as he moves, and then there’s friction against Yuu’s skin, the weight of hot pressure sliding against his entrance a moment before Kei rocks forward and the stretch of his cock sinks into the grip of his brother’s body.

Yuu doesn’t know what sound he makes. It’s too-loud, he knows, helpless heat unfurling up his throat to spill into noise against the sheets, but he can’t help it; it’s too much, the sudden pressure so much more than his fingers and the heat so unfamiliar and the awareness hot and slick as oil in his veins that Kei is _inside_ him, that Kei is _fucking_ him right here, right now. Kei huffs an exhale, loud enough that Yuu can hear the strain on it but far more softly than Yuu’s own muffled groan, and draws back by a half-inch to thrust in deeper, past the reach of Yuu’s fingers. Yuu tightens involuntarily at the movement, his whole body tensing against the force, and Kei hisses at the sensation, heat spilling past his clenched teeth to pour over Yuu’s shoulders. Yuu’s eyes are wide against the sheets under him for all that he can’t see anything; he can’t move, either his head or his hand or his body, can’t even think for the overwhelming array of input he’s getting. His mind is screaming, putting voice to the protest that this is _wrong_ , this is so much worse than anything Yuu’s done before, that this is Kei in fact and not just in fantasy, that there’s a line that has been crossed, that is being crossed with every heavy thrust Kei takes into him. But there’s the heat, too, strong and getting stronger, surging up Yuu’s spine with each slide of Kei’s cock inside his body, and relief, the blinding satisfaction of finally, suddenly having all his fantasies converted into the slick heat of reality.

Yuu can hear Kei’s breathing, can feel the grip of the other’s hand bruising at his hip to hold him still; each movement of the other’s body pushes Yuu open around the force of his cock, each forward thrust brings the heat of his balls pressing close against Yuu’s skin. There’s a slick sound, the catch of the lube sticking to itself as it eases Kei’s movement, and Yuu is starting to tremble, he can feel the sensation mounting to excess in the shiver in his thighs and the ache low in his stomach. Kei’s gasping, now, gulping air over Yuu’s shoulders like he’s just finished a race; Yuu wonders, in a dizzy, distant way, if his skin is as flushed now as it is then, if the grey of his eyes is as heat-hazed as it always looks at the finish line of a race. He’s moving faster, too, driving himself forward in short, hard strokes that barely pull out of Yuu at all, and Yuu is tensing around Kei to match, his body setting a rhythm of reaction completely independent of any rational thought in his head.

Yuu gasps for air, straining for oxygen past the barrier of the sheets under him, and Kei shoves hard into him, choking some half-formed sound into silence as his cock pulses heat inside Yuu’s body. Yuu shudders, the darkness of illicit pleasure swamping his attention, and then Kei’s touch releases his hip and slides between his body and the sheets, and Kei barely has time to curl his fingers into a fist atop Yuu’s hold before Yuu’s whole body convulses and he comes, spurting over Kei’s fingers and clenching around Kei’s cock. There’s a moan in his throat, the helpless wail of Kei’s name forcing itself free from his chest, but Kei doesn’t let his hold on Yuu’s hair go, and whatever sound makes it to the air is lost before it can escape the barrier of the shut door.

Kei doesn’t move until Yuu has trembled through the last aftershocks of pleasure, doesn’t ease his hold on the other’s hair until the heat in Yuu’s cock has faded to leave him soft against the sticky of his brother’s hold. It’s only then that Kei lets the grip he has on Yuu’s hair go and lets himself slide back and out of his brother; Yuu can feel the movement drag friction against overstimulated nerve endings, can feel the wet slick that follows Kei’s cock trickle against the back of his thigh. It makes him shudder with more heat than he’d like to admit, and he can hear the rush of Kei’s exhale hard in his chest, can feel Kei’s hand tense for a moment of reaction against his hip. Then the bed shifts, Kei moves back, and by the time Yuu dares to turn his head and look back Kei is on his feet and pulling his pajama pants back into place. His head is down, his hair falling into shadow over his features, but Yuu can see his hands shaking very slightly as he draws his clothes back into place.

Yuu swallows, tries to fit moisture back on his lips and coherency back in his thoughts. “Kei, I--”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Kei snaps, and he’s looking up, the nighttime silver of the moonlight from the window chasing away the shadows from his eyes and turning them almost translucent in the dim lighting. His chin is up, his mouth set into a frown; looking down at Yuu, the lines of his features are beautiful enough to steal the other’s breath, to leave him as voiceless as if his mouth were still pressed against the sheets. “Don’t talk.”

He stares at the other for several long seconds. It’s not until Yuu takes a silent inhale and nods in understanding that the harsh angle of Kei’s chin lowers, that the threat of a scowl eases from his features. His attention slides off Yuu’s face, trails across the bare skin still left uncovered for his gaze; Yuu can see Kei’s throat work, can see the ink-black of his eyelashes shift as he blinks slow and heavy with heat. Then he turns, and reaches for the door, and he’s gone as fast as he came, the door clicking shut behind him before Yuu even has a chance to drag a sheet to cover himself.

Yuu stays still for a long, long time, staring at the door where Kei left and feeling his heart thud panic and heat in equal parts through his veins. His body aches with the afterimage of sex; his skin prickles discomfort at the liquid clinging sticky against it. But he doesn’t get up to take a shower, doesn’t shift to change his sheets or his clothes; he just stays where he is, staring unseeing into the familiar shadows of his room while Kei’s come dries on his thighs.

Without an audience, Yuu can pretend he’s not smiling.


End file.
